


Spotless Mind

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: Memories [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Past Rape/Non-con, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27259777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Sequel to Just Friends. Dean assumed Y/n was dead when she stopped answering his emails, but when he walks onto a crime scene to find her questioning a witness, he learns that sometimes even second chances might not work out.~~~“You’re gonna fix things with my brother.”“No, I’m not. I’m not going to fix anything. I’ll stay for the hunt. But I’m not staying past that.”“Why the hell not? You’re not upset that you don’t know that we put an end to the Apocalypse? The real, for-real Apocalypse with Satan and-and the Horsemen and-”“I’m not. I can’t be.” She pulled her hand away and shook her head. “I don’t know you,” she whispered.Dean’s eyebrows came together and he tried to say something but he couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “What?”She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know you. I’m sorry. I...figure you’re part of what I was trying to forget but I’ve forgotten so I don’t know.”“What does that mean?”“Means...I was down in Cusco and I met a shaman and he took my pain from me...and the only way he could do that was to take all the memories that went with it.”“You Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind-ed yourself?”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Series: Memories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025173
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Spotless Mind

**Story Warnings: 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!** oral (fem rec), mentions of Dean perving on a teenager (and feeling bad about it), mentions of noncon and underaged drinking

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s gotta be a shifter,” Dean said, looking over the file on his lap.

“Not necessarily, Dean. We haven’t even looked at the body. Don’t jump to conclusions yet.”

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam drove them across the state line into New Mexico. “I’m just sayin’...reminds me of that shifter we did a few years ago...your friend? What was her name? Rebecca?”

“Yeah, I see the similarities, but we shouldn’t judge until we get there.”

“Well, we’re almost there so...I’m allowed a little pre-judging.”

They stopped at a motel and got changed into their suits before heading out to start the investigation. When they arrived at the crime scene in Raton, New Mexico, they pulled their badges and the cop at the caution tape rolled his eyes. “Another one?” he grumbled, lifting the tape to let them under.

A familiar face was already standing in the living room, interrogating a man with tear-red eyes. “¿Qué viste?” Y/n asked, giving barely a look to the Winchester brothers.

“Estaba muy mal herida. Ella estaba atada a la silla y sangrando. Crei que se había ido.”

“Agent,” Dean greeted as he approached. Sam hung back, his face paled and eyes sad.

“Agent. This is Miguel. He was just telling me about how he found his wife, Camilla, tied to a chair and covered in blood,” she said, very professionally, before turning back to the witness. “Continúa.” Dean listened in, trying to catch words he knew in the conversation, but Y/n and Miguel were talking too fast. Y/n put her hand on Miguel’s shoulder and smiled sweetly at the witness. “Gracias, Miguel. Llama si piensas en algo.”

“So, you really went down south and learned Spanish through immersion? I thought that was a euphemism for somethin’,” Dean said as Y/n walked away with him. A quick scan of the room showed them both that Sam had left the building.

“Yeah. I _really_ did. You think I’ve been hiding in my momma’s house the last four years?”

“Honestly thought you were dead. We’ve lost a lot of hunters over the last few years...I thought you were one of ‘em when you stopped responding to emails.”

Y/n shrugged. “I got a really bad concussion, ended up with a bit of amnesia...forgot my password. Sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Truth be told...we’ve been too busy with the end of the world to really be too worried. But we poured some out for you back in oh-eight.”

“Well, you can un-pour it. ‘Cause I’m alive.” Y/n sighed as they walked out of the house and she noticed Sam in the front seat of the Impala. “Seems like four years hasn’t made this any less awkward.”

"Oh, you remember that, but not your email password? Also, you know you can retrieve those passwords with a few security questions, right?"

"Forgot the name of my first pet, too."

Dean turned and examined her. “You forgot a lot, but you still remember us? Is that weird? Seems weird.”

She shrugged. “Some shit got knocked out of me, some shit stayed.”

Dean nodded, an incredulous look on his face. He shook it away. "Well, we should have a few beers. I’m pretty sure that we’re lookin’ at a shifter here, so we can knock this out and then catch up on everything.”

She sighed heavily and shook her head. “I don’t really hunt with partners, uh…” She scratched the back of her neck as she looked down, focusing on his dress shoes. “It’s nothing personal, dude, it’s just...it’s easier for me to-”

“Well, you’re gettin’ support from me and Sam, okay? We drove all this way, we’re gonna fuck up a shifter, and besides, don’t you know it’s a bad idea to hunt alone?”

“Why, ‘cause I’m a woman?” she snapped. “You want this job, you can have it. I’ll just-”

“No, we might need a translator! Come on, don’t leave just because it’s awkward. Sam’s been beating himself up over that shit for years and it’s not even his fault!”

She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t...Um, I...man, this is just not...I mean,” she stumbled over her words, looking increasingly frustrated and confused. “I can stay for the hunt, but...I can’t stay to hang out and have a beer.”

“Look, we’ve missed you, Poindexter.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, and Dean couldn’t help but grab her hand and try to force a connection with her. “You were my first friend, Y/n, the first person I met that understood growing up in the life...and you’re alive. I thought you were dead and you’re alive and I can’t let you just drive off into the sunset again. It was a mistake for me to let you walk out of our lives the first time, Y/n, and I’m not gonna let you do it again.” He bent his head to look into her eyes and licked his lips before continuing. “You’re gonna fix things with my brother.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, looking away from his eyes. “I’m not going to fix anything. I’ll stay for the hunt. But I’m not staying past that.”

“Why the hell not? You’re not upset about losing us, Y/n? You’re not upset that you don’t know what we’ve been up to the last four fuckin’ _years_? You’re not upset that you missed me going to Hell, or Sam going to Hell? The fact that he didn’t have a soul for a year, or the fact that we put an end to the Apocalypse? The real, for-real Apocalypse with Satan and-and the Horsemen and-”

“I’m _not_. I can’t be.” She pulled her hand away and shook her head. “I don’t know you,” she whispered.

Dean’s eyebrows came together and he tried to say something but he couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “What?”

She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know you. I’m sorry. I...figure you’re part of what I was trying to forget but I’ve forgotten so I don’t know.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means...I was down in Cusco and I met a shaman and he took my pain from me...and the only way he could do that was to take all the memories that went with it.”

“You Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind-ed yourself?” Dean asked, gawking at her.

“Yes?” She shrugged. “I-I guess?”

“Okay, so…” He licked his lips and bit the inside of his cheek. “So, you don’t remember me, at all?”

Her eyes went a bit glassy as she shook her head a little. “I don’t even know your name,” she whispered.

His lips twitched as he tried to figure out how to straighten this out. “Uh, it’s...it’s Dean. Dean Winchester. We’ve known each other since I was twelve years old.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Here’s what we’re gonna do: we’re gonna gank a shifter and then you an’ me, we’re gonna hit a bar and we’re gonna...remind you of…” He ran his hand across his mouth and cleared his throat. “Everything but the bad.”

“What about, um, the other one, um...Sam?”

Dean let out a loud hum and then smiled brightly. “You and I can do this job without him. I’ll tell him to stay at the motel, use him for research if we need it."

"I'm pretty good at research," she reminded him.

"I know. That was always you and Sam's wheelhouse. The nerdy junk." He gave her a soft smile and nodded toward her car. "Let's do this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean walked Y/n to her motel room door to make sure he knew where she was and patted her shoulder as he bid her goodnight after a fruitless day of looking for the shifter. "We'll pick this up in the morning. You didn't forget you like waffles, did you?"

She giggled and shook her head at him. "7am, Dean. We'll hit the diner on Main."

He nodded and waved at her before heading for his own room. The fact that she was alive was a miracle. Not even an asshole Angel miracle, but a real one. A real miracle. Because Dean mourned her. He mourned the perceived loss of her more than he mourned Pam or Jo or even his dad, really. He mourned Y/n almost like he mourned Sam.

He could remember the moment he realized she was probably dead. He was sitting in the Impala, eating Halloween candy, thinking about broken Seals when he remembered the Witnesses. The Witnesses were sent after Hunters...and Y/n hadn’t answered an email in months. He had no time to dwell until after Sam killed Samhain, but as soon as he was able to slow down and think about it, he was struck with dismay.

Y/n was more than a friend. She was his _only_ friend for a long time and he always felt she was something...something more. She was gorgeous, smart, and a badass in the best way. She was always too much for Dean. She was always too smart, too beautiful, too awesome...too young. Sam should have snatched her up, but he was resistant for some reason, probably because Dean pushed it so hard. Dean just wanted Y/n to stay in his life and the best way for that to happen was if she ended up his brother’s girl.

It never worked out, though. Sam never wanted her, never picked her. She never ended up his brother’s girl and then Meg ruined any chance of anything _ever_ happening.

Sam looked up at him as soon as Dean entered the door. “Is she…”

“She’s okay,” Dean answered, shutting the door behind him. “She, uh...she hit up an Incan shaman in Peru and...she doesn’t remember, Sammy.”

“She doesn’t remember...what Meg did?”

“She doesn’t remember _us_.” Dean licked his lips and scoffed. “She doesn’t remember the Winchesters, at all. I had to remind her of my _name_.” He pulled the knot of his tie to loosen it and walked over to the cooler on the counter to grab a beer. “She doesn’t remember anything. She’s...she’s still her but she just doesn’t know us. She doesn’t even know Dad.” He chuckled. “I tried to remind ‘er, uh, of that night she tried to scratch Dad’s eyes out for callin’ you ‘Nancy Boy’...how she railed against his misogyny. She’s got no recollection.”

“A shaman just took all of her Winchester memories?” Sam asked, standing to take the beer Dean offered him.

“She said the shaman took her pain so he had to take memories that went with the pain. So, anything that might trigger her memories of what Meg did…” He whistled shrilly and cut his hand through the air beside his head. “Got axed.”

“I can see him taking her memories of _me_ but, you and Dad?”

“Yeah, well, me and Dad are kinda intertwined with you, right? And it might not have been you that did it, but...it was your body. It was your face.” Dean looked at his own beer. “It was your voice, tellin’ her things she always wanted to hear.” Sam focused on his beer, too, sloshing it back and forth. “Why didn’t you ever say those things to her?”

Sam sighed, frustration leaking out of him. “She wasn’t...I wasn’t interested in her like that, Dean. She was always pretty but...I told you, told her, told Dad and Bobby. I just...she was just a friend.”

“Yeah, well, now she’s nothing, right? Now, she doesn’t even remember being your friend. She doesn’t remember bein’ _my_ friend. She’s forgotten huge chunks of our lives.” Dean looked up and caught Sam’s eyes before taking a drink of his beer. “Not that it’s your fault or anything, but...ya know, it sucks.”

“I wish...I wish it hadn’t gone down the way it did, Dean, but...Meg was-”

“I know,” Dean interrupted. “It’ll be okay. I’ll...I’ll remind her of the good times and avoid the...the really bad one.”

“And I will stay right here and avoid her, I guess.”

Dean shrugged. “There was a time when I’d tell you not to avoid, that you should talk to her, but...probably better if you don’t. She might not take it very well.”

Sam nodded and took a drink of his beer. It was better to avoid her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m tellin’ you, you were the best shot I ever saw for most of my damn life. I mean, you were better than me for a long time.” Dean smiled at Y/n as she bit into a slice of pizza. The shifter went down easy and they were celebrating at a bowling alley with beer, pizza, and pinball. “One time, we went out to plink cans with our dads and, uh, your old man started givin’ you shit about how men are-are better markspeople and how you weren’t ever gonna be better with a pistol than him and you just aimed that Colt at the fence and sent those cans flyin’.”

“Sounds like Dad,” she said, chuckling. “And then he took credit, right?”

Dean nodded and laughed. “Yep! Said it was ‘motivation’ but I just thought it was you bein’ badass. You had to have been, like, eight or nine and, uh...I just…”

“How old were _you_?” She looked away, confusion painting her face. “Sorry, I can’t really place your current age so I can’t compare.”

“I’m six years older than you, Y/n. Which isn’t such a big gap now, but it used to be monumental.” He took a bite of his own piece of pizza and licked his fingers.

“Oh, well, six years _is_ a lot. Especially when you’re so close to six years old.” She laughed and he smiled softly. She had the best laugh, always had. “But when you’re on the thirty side of twenty-five...it doesn’t seem like much.”

“Right. Exactly.”

“So...from all these memories you’ve been trying to share, I take it we were really close?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah. I mean, we, uh, we grew up together. We had a lot in common, ya know? Our moms both died and our dads both took their military training and applied it to hunting monsters. We both grew up in the hunter life. We meshed...even though you were a little squirt.”

She laughed again. “Oh, you must have lorded that height over me, huh?”

“Damn straight. What’s the point of being a foot taller than you your whole life if I don’t remind you of it every chance I get?”

She bit her bottom lip and smiled. "I know it's probably better I don't but...I kinda wish I could remember you. It seems like we were something special."

"We were," he whispered before clearing his throat. "And hey, you're back. You're alive and you're back so...maybe we can be something special again. Make a bunch'a new memories to replace the ones that went poof."

"What kinda memories do you think we should make?" she asked, her tone a bit suggestive.

Dean's jaw dropped slightly. That was his imagination, right? "Um, I…"

"I know we weren't a thing before. I was too young for you, right?" she asked, picking up her beer and peeling the label.

"Or-originally, yeah. Like I said, six years is a lot when you meet at six and twelve years old. I mean, you were a sophomore when I was buyin' my first legal beers. It would have been skeevy for me to-to look at you like that."

"Did you look anyway?" she asked, not looking up from her fingernail picking at the label edge. "I'm just trying to get a grasp on the nature of our relationship."

Dean licked his lips. "You had a crush on my brother. He was more age-appropriate so I pushed you...I tried to convince him that you were...I failed to get you two together," he concluded.

She looked up and caught his eyes. "So, you had a crush on me and I had a crush on your brother and you tried to push your brother to date me because you felt like a pervert because I am six years younger than you?"

Dean pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right, yep. It was a lot of me being awed at you, Sammy being oblivious of your amazingness, and me trying not to be an old weirdo."

"Well, I don't think you're an old weirdo...and you seem perfectly nice...like you care about me. I haven't had that in a very long time."

"You didn't have anybody down in Peru?"

She shook her head. "I mean, far as I can remember...whatever bad thing happened and I crossed the border, headed South. I was alone. I bummed around Mexico for a while, drank a lot of whiskey and tequila and mezcal, and I hunted. That wasn't...it wasn’t far enough. It wasn’t hot enough or dangerous enough so I went...crossed a few more Southern borders until I got to Bogota, which was too big. Too many people. Not enough monsters to kill. Ended up in this bar owned by a former cartel lieutenant who basically bought his way out with his left hand. But he didn't feel any pain from it. He completely bypassed the phantom pains.. He told me…" She let out a scoffing laugh. "He told me about the shaman in Cusco, Peru. Said the shaman could make me better."

"And you just went?" Dean asked. "Just let the man yank out the pieces of your life that he thought needed to be gone?"

"You and I both know that most medicine men and shamans are either just straight religious leaders working on the healing power of placebo effect or crooks conning their way through people's savings and disappearing into the night. But I had to look into it, didn't I?" She shrugged. "I was never going to get over what happened without help and what was I gonna do, go to a shrink? Get locked up in a looney bin like Martin? No, thank you."

"And after?" he asked before taking a bite of pizza.

"I've been better. I knew I was missing things but I never really thought much about it until you walked into my crime scene and you knew me and I didn't know you."

"Yeah, that sucked, by the way," Dean said around a mouthful of pepperoni. "But now we got a second chance so...I won’t hold it against you."

They both smiled softly at each other.

Dean insisted on a bowling match and regaled Y/n with a story of them bowling with his dad. “You kicked my ass, just like you did back then,” Dean said, laughing as they exited the bowling alley an hour later.

“Tell me more stories, Dean,” she said, laughing a bit drunkenly. “I like hearing about us.”

“Okay, uh...when you were sixteen, you called me from your Homecoming dance, right? You went with this senior jerk named Christian and he spent half the night ignorin’ you and by the time you called, he was dancing with this girl in a strapless dress and you just wanted a ride home, right?” Dean licked his lips and leaned against the back of the Impala, looking down at her. “But I wouldn’t let you bail on the first high school dance that you actually got to go to, so I went into that gym in my best fed suit and I danced two songs with you, made sure he was watching and...I dipped you at the end of the last one. Then, and only then, did I take you outta there and drive you to have a few beers by the river.”

“Damn,” she whispered. “You know, it seems like we had a lot of really good times.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “We had a lot of good memories. One really bad one came in and wiped ‘em all away.”

“It wasn’t a bad memory with _you_ , though, right?” Y/n asked. Dean shook his head and she smiled, leaning closer to him. “We should make some new memories.”

“What do you think we’re doin’?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“No, I-I don’t mean recreating memories you’ve already got, Dean. I mean...something completely new for both of us,” she said, going to her tiptoes and leaning even closer.

Dean swallowed and licked his lips, leaning down to her level. “What kind of new?”

“Well, let’s start with a kiss and go from there.”

He held his breath and leaned down to press his lips to hers. His eyes fluttered shut almost immediately and hers did the same as they slotted their lips against each other’s. Dean’s hands slipped up into her hair as she grabbed at his shirt to pull him closer.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean whispered when he pulled away from her. “I have been waiting for that for so long.”

“What else have you been waiting for?” she whispered.

His jaw dropped slightly as she ran her hand up under his shirt and dragged her nails across his nipple. “Oh, fuck,” he repeated. He licked his lips and leaned down to get another kiss. “Motel?”

“Motel,” she confirmed, stepping back from him to get in the passenger side of the Impala.

Dean drove as fast as he could back to the motel and pulled her into his arms as they exited the car, licking at her tongue as they moved toward the door to her room. She was more aggressive than he imagined her being and Dean liked that. He liked that she was already working his belt open before he even got her door open and that she pulled her shirt off as soon as the door closed behind them. She was eager for him. He never thought she’d be eager for him.

As they pulled their clothes off and groped at each other between frenzied kisses, the back of Dean’s mind was focused on being grateful to that shaman. When they took her memories of him being a big brother to her, it gave him the chance to start over, to be this thing that he never let himself be. Y/n wasn’t a little girl anymore. Six years difference didn’t matter much to a thirty-two year old...and all he wanted was to love her.

Y/n pulled him down for another kiss and he reached down to the back of her thighs, hauling her up around his waist and walking her to the bed as they kissed. She giggled when he dropped her to the mattress, reaching out to him as he smiled down at her. She was beautiful. A bit scarred, but decked out in lean muscle and looking up at him with lust-filled eyes.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” She looked away bashfully and shook her head a bit. “What, don’t guys tell you how gorgeous you are?”

She shook her head. “I don’t...I’ve been alone for years, Dean. It’s just been me and my battery-operated boyfriend.”

Dean smirked. “Oh, really? What kinda B.O.B. you got?”

Y/n bit her bottom lip and gestured at her duffel bag. “Front pocket.”

He leaned down and reached into the front pocket, expecting to find some thick, cock-shaped silicone, but instead he found a small, bullet-shaped vibe. “This little thing?” he asked, kneeling on the bed next to her legs. “This tiny, little vibrator is the pleasure you’ve been gettin’ for years?”

“It’s stronger than it looks,” she defended quietly.

He hummed and pressed the button on the side, his eyes going wide as it buzzed to life in his palm. “Holy shit, you aren’t lyin’.” He bit his bottom lip and set the vibe against the skin of the valley between her breasts, sweeping it down along the bottom swell of her breast and smiling as her nipple perked up and she gasped lightly. “This has been getting you off for how many years, Y/n?”

“Two?” she squeaked as he dragged it down her abdomen to the crease between her leg and pelvis.

“And before that? Hot Mexican men had the satisfaction of the job?”

She shook her head and gasped. “No. Different vibe before. Last time I had a guy was…” She licked her lips and shrugged. “Must’ve been seven or eight years ago.”

Dean was struck for a minute, his fingers fumbling and dropping the vibe as he realized Meg was the last time she had anything from a warm body. Meg, in Sam, forcing her was the last time she had a dick in her. She caught his apprehension before he was able to cover it and convince himself it was okay because she didn’t remember it happening.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up and leaning back on her elbows.

“Uh, no-nothing. Nothing’s wrong, baby.”

“Bullshit, Winchester,” she snapped, picking up the vibe and turning it off. “You’ve got...you’ve got this look on your face.”

“I...can’t, Y/n. It’s not a big deal and I’m sorry if I broke the mood, but I can’t explain where my head went so can we just get back to the fun?” he almost begged.

She sighed and sat up all the way. “Well, you’re going to have to work very hard to distract me from whatever’s going on in your head.”

Dean smirked and covered her body with his. “I can do that,” he whispered as he slipped the vibe out of her hand and kissed her. He crawled down her body and fitted himself between her thighs, holding her sex open with two fingers and giving her teasing licks. He waited until she was moaning and squirming, one hand twisted in his hair and the other twisted in the bedsheet, before he turned the vibe on and pressed it against her clit as he fucked her with his tongue. She screamed, yanking hard on the fistful of hair in her hand as she bucked against his face, cumming harder than she ever had before.

“Holy shit, Dean,” she whispered as he dropped the vibe to the bed next to her and climbed back up her body, lewdly licking his lips as he went.

“You like that?” he asked, dragging his fingertips up her side as he settled next to her.

“Yeah. You are... _amazing_ with your tongue. Holy...fuck.”

He chuckled and leaned down to bump his nose against hers and steal a sweet, chaste kiss. “I’m happy that you’re happy, Y/n.”

She hummed lethargically and rolled over on top of him, straddling his navel. “I could get happier,” she said, reaching behind her to wrap her hand around his hard cock. “If this thing is half as good as your tongue, I’ll be really happy in no time.”

Dean gasped, his eyes fluttering shut as she ran her hand up and down the length of him. Another thing she was inexplicably skilled at. “W-wait,” he whispered and her hand stilled. His eyes popped back open and he took a steadying breath. “I-I hate myself for even _thinking_ this, but...I think we should stop.”

“What?” she hissed, eyes full of betrayal at the suggestion.

“You barely know me,” Dean argued, and it felt so hypocritical coming out of his mouth when he knew he had a hundred one-night stands in his memory bank, but he couldn’t speak the truth. “I know you, but you barely know me and I don’t think we should jump right into me raw-doggin’ you in some dirty motel room, okay? You deserve better.”

Her eyes went wide for a second before she trained her face into a learned coldness. “Right. I deserve better.” She slipped off of him and rolled straight off of the bed, grabbing his clothes and tossing them at him. “Thanks for the walk down Memory Lane, Dean. Say ‘hi’ to Shawn for me,” she dismissed before disappearing into the bathroom.

“It’s Sam,” he corrected. Dean’s jaw twitched as he clenched it in anger at himself. He angrily dressed as she stayed stubbornly behind the door. He hoped he hadn’t completely fucked things up with her.

“I...I’ll call, Y/n,” he said before leaving the motel room and heading for the one his brother was waiting in. “Hey. You get my text?” Dean made a beeline for the green cooler on the table and grabbed a beer.

“Shifter’s dead. Yep,” Sam answered, barely looking up from his laptop. “So, she doesn’t remember...and that makes her just another girl for you to get your dick in?”

Dean shook his head, jaw clenching again. “Actually, no, Sammy.” He took a drink of his beer and turned to look at Sam. “Couldn’t do it. I realized that the last time she was...intimate with anyone was when she was raped and I couldn’t do it. Even though I’ve wanted her since she was jailbait, I couldn’t do it...and now she’s pissed at me and I don’t think I’m ever gonna have another chance to do this right so...no, her not being able to remember shit didn’t help me _at all_.”

Sam looked across the room at Dean and sighed as he shut his laptop. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to...I just saw you guys kissing in the parking lot. I didn’t know you felt like that for her, Dean. I thought she was just-”

“A friend?” Dean interrupted. “Yeah, because she _had_ to be. She wanted _you_...and I was a grown man and she was...pure and sweet and so much better than me because I poison _everything_. I mean...look at what I did to Lisa’s life...and look at Pam and Jo and Ellen. We got no friends left but Bobby, Sammy, because I’m toxic and I knew that.” He bit harshly into his lip and fought tears as he took another drink of beer.

“I knew when I first started seeing her as something besides this tiny...proto-hunter, when she started to be a woman with goals and...and she wasn’t even a woman yet and that’s what was messed up about it and that’s why I tried to get you to see her, but you wouldn’t and then Meg ruined _everything_ and that was my fault too because I should have known that you were possessed and I fucking _missed_ it and now I’ve lost Y/n when I just got her back and you can shove your ‘just friends’ bullshit right up your Sasquatch ass because she’s too good to be our friend and she’s actually better off living without her memories of us.”

“Dean,” Sam started, but he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Don’t. Just...a couple beers and I’ll be all right,” Dean dismissed, chugging down the rest of the beer and setting the empty aside before grabbing another.


End file.
